


You're Just An Assignment

by castlelions



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Assassin Lance, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Human Allura (Voltron), Human Coran (Voltron), Keith and Shiro are Siblings, Lance (Voltron) Speaks Spanish, M/M, Mafia Boss Shiro, Mention of Keith's mom, Mention of Lance's family - Freeform, My First Work in This Fandom, Organized Crime, Slow Burn, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-03-30 20:56:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13959855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castlelions/pseuds/castlelions
Summary: Introduction of assassin Lance and his new assignment.





	1. Your mission is…

**Author's Note:**

> Introduction of assassin Lance and his new assignment.

**_One hour earlier_ **

 

 _Calm breaths, muchacho,_ Lance reminded himself. His pointer finger caressed the trigger of his Mamba .42 pistol, leveling the gun straight at the truck driver who was frantically piling stacks of bills into the black bag.

 

_You’ve done this plenty of times. It’s a piece of cake._

 

The road, slick with rain, was empty besides Lance’s getaway Lexus and the bank money truck. Before they entered the highway, he had his team’s hacker, Hector Sanchez, crack into the local road security cameras and disable them. That way, the _policías_ wouldn’t know they were there.

 

There was only one minor problem. The drivers of the van were potential tattletales. They needed to be taken care of.

 

“ _Lanza!”_ Gregorio, the lookout of the team, called out Lance’s name in Spanish. The thin, lanky male was snapping quickly, the signal that he was dreading. Hector’s camera hack was wearing off. It was time to leave.

 

Lance tightened his grip on his pistol and stalked toward the driver. “Hurry up!” he snarled. If they were late this time, the _Jefe_ wouldn’t let him lead another team again, no matter how good he was with a gun. “Don’t leave any stack of _dinero,_ behind _.”_

 

“Please,” whimpered the driver. “I have a family at home, they’ll be wondering where I’m at.” His hands were shaking, but there was a fight in his eyes that Lance never missed. He needed to be careful.

 

“That’s what they all say,” Lance said distractedly, eyeing the cash piling up. “Keep going. Don’t stop.”

 

“ _Lanza_ , the hack’s almost broke,” Hector called out from the car. Lance sucked his teeth disapprovingly, but waved his gun at the driver. The final bag was zipped up, and while Lance snatched it up and hoisted it over his shoulder, the others on his team came up and took the rest. During a brief moment in the lamplight, Lance caught the nametag on the driver’s uniform: _Kevin_.

 

He heaved his bag to Gregorio, keeping his pistol trained on the driver. His team climbed into their van, waving for him to follow. But Lance had an itch to scratch. He turned to Kevin and grinned, though the man couldn’t see it under his ski mask. “It was nice knowing you. If you know what’s best for you, get to a hospital.”

 

Confusion flickered across Kevin’s face. “Why?”

 

“Because you’re bleeding.” _Aim the crosshairs, breathe if you dare…_

 

“What—”

 

Lance cut him off with a silenced bullet to the chest.

  
\--

 

**_Present - Cartel Warehouse_ **

**_Tuesday, April 12th, 11:43 p.m._ **

  


“You’re sure you weren’t seen?”

 

“Yeah. Hector’s hack shorted out just in time for us to dip.”

 

The _Jefe_ looked disgruntled, but he didn’t say anything else. Lance watched him carefully, noting every detail about him as if he were in his gun’s crosshairs. The circular light above glinted sharply against Lotor’s white hair, casting him in a yellow glow. Lance remembered when his hair still had some streaks of brown in it, but the sharpshooter guessed stress and age made the boss’ hair leech of color.

 

The large, tall man dug a hand into one of the bags, pulling out several stacks of hundred dollar bills and sliding them across the table to Lance. “Here. You did good.”

 

Lance scooped up the cash, flashing his trademark grin. “I know I did. I’m the best you’ve got.”

 

Lotor sighed and closed his eyes, as if praying for patience. Lance realized the man had wrinkles in the corner of his eyes. “Don’t get too cocky. You still have a job to do. This one, I’m afraid, gets a little personal.”

 

Lance looked up from counting one of the stacks, his interest piqued. “Personal?” He liked getting up close and personal.

 

“For me. It’s how you handle it that matters.” Lotor shoved the bags aside and slid a thin manila file across to him. “Check it out.”

 

Feeling a little skeptic, Lance slowly opened the folder. It was a schedule with the timestamps next to them. At the top of the page was a profile mug of a guy with black hair and slightly slanted eyes, hinting at a foreign ethnicity. Korean? There wasn’t a full face picture, so Lance couldn’t really get a good look. But next to the picture was a spec list.

 

“Keith Kogane?”

 

Lotor grunted in affirmation. “He’s Shirogane’s brother. You know him, yes?”

 

Lance was preoccupied with reading the information but he still managed to ruffle Lotor’s feathers. “Who? Shiro or Keith?”

 

The boss pinned him with an unamused stare, making Lance bite back a grin when he looked up at him. “Sorry, _Jefe._ ” The sharpshooter quickly smoothed his face out and looked back at the older man. “Yes, I know him. Takashi Shirogane. Our rival in everything we do and accomplish.”

 

Lotor nodded in approval. Lance was suddenly brought back to the times when Lotor constantly looked at him like that; when he was younger, still absorbing the ways of the  knowing that those were the very words that he had taught him all those years back, when the boy was still young and absorbed everything he was shown. “Then become acquainted with Keith. He is your next target. What you see there is—”

 

“His schedule, I see it. Says here that he has school. I can’t exactly pop up in the building with a gun. That place has metal detectors.”

 

“Why do you need to use a gun for every kill?”

 

“It’s my signature.”

 

“I don’t want you to expose yourself in such a public place.” Lotor gestured to the file. “Follow his extracurricular schedule.”

 

Lance glanced down at it, skimming it as he had skimmed other files before. This was easy. He could get this done tomorrow, tops. “He usually takes a run about two hours or so after school,” he summarized off the paper. “He goes home for a few more, then at six thirty works out at the gym in town until eight forty.”

 

 _Jefe_ nodded again. “Mhm.”  He didn't say anything more. Lance knew he wanted him to devise a plan in front of him, as always. Heaving a sigh, he closed the file and quickly pulled one together off the top of his head.

 

"I know the area. There's an abandoned warehouse like this one, and the roof is easily accessible. At seven thirty, I'll go there and set up.” He paused, eyes drifting off to a spot in the distance as he thought. “I’m thinking I should be alone; this is a one man job. No need for five guys to take out one.”

 

Lotor grunted his approval. “Good.” He zipped up the duffel bag and hoisted it over his shoulder. “Now go home and sleep. You need your energy for this mission.”

 

Lance gave him a mock salute, knowing that his boss would only roll his eyes at him. Saluting wasn’t a must in the cartel, and neither was any show of respect; just as long as you did what you were told and never started at _Le Jefe_ in the eyes during an argument, you were fine. But for some reason, Lance broke that rule all the time and never got the belt as a kid. Or a punch to the _huevos_. Nonetheless, he suspected it was because Lance had a soft spot in Loto’s hard heart. It was the only explanation.

 

\--

 

**_Condominium Complex, Room 106_ **

**_Wednesday, April 13th, 12:07 a.m._ **

  


The apartment was dark and quiet when Lance snuck in through the first story window. He made sure that the roommates got latched windows so that he could easily pry it open without it making much noise. It made his late-night entrances unnoticeable.

 

The moment his feet touched the carpet of his room, the light suddenly switched on. Lance swore beneath his breath and tripped over the beanbag that was conveniently directly beneath his window.

 

“Where were you?” His best friend sat ominously on the swivel chair at his desk, his large hands propped up and folded on the table. He watched Lance expectantly.

 

“Hunk! Uh, hi?” Lance expertly dodged the question, slipping off his coat and his shoes at the same time, not meeting Hunk’s eyes.

 

But his friend wasn’t having it. He stood up, walking over to grab hold of Lance’s collar and yank him to stillness. “ _Lance._ ”

 

The sharpshooter sighed resignedly and dropped his shoulders. “Fine! Fine. I was with Lotor at the warehouse. I finished a job and was discussing my next—”

 

“ _Lotor?”_ Hunk hissed beneath his breath. He released Lance and glared at him openly. “Come on, man. I _told_ you this is not the way to go. You can find other ways to make a living. You need to break away from the cartel.”

 

“It’s not that easy, okay?” Lance was growing frustrated. Why couldn’t Hunk see that the cartel was the only thing that Lance knew? Lotor, acting as a distant relative, took Lance in when his parents were killed in a drive by that a rival gang was involved in. He took care of him as though he were his father, clothed him and fed him. He trained him to never be helpless and vulnerable, ever again.

 

There was no way Lance could leave just like that.

 

“I’m sorry.” It was all Lance could offer.

 

Hunk watched him for a few seconds, his dark brown eyes swimming with unreadable emotion. He looked as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Finally he sighed, shaking his head. “Buddy, I don’t know what to tell you. Just… be careful, okay?”

 

Lance gave him his trademark grin, but it felt forced. He bet it looked forced too.

 

“I’m always careful, man.”


	2. The Secret Life of a Mafia Sibling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The introduction of Keith, Shiro, and Allura. Keith disapproves of Shiro's night job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhhhhhh this was a long one. sorry!

**_Kogane-Shirogane Household_ **

_Wednesday, August 13th, 5:02 a.m_ _._

  


The sky was already a middle shade of blue, brightening as Keith watched from his perch on the windowsill. It was big enough for him to sit and watch the sunrise, which became his favorite early morning pastime ever since he and his brother moved to the suburbs. It was a tame neighborhood, compared to the clumped projects they used to inhabit. These spacious houses, right on the edge of the metropolis, were the in-between.  

 

A knock on his door diverged his attention from the window. “Come in,” he called, getting up to walk over to his closet..

 

His bedroom door opened, revealing Shiro already dressed in his immaculate suit, jet black hair with a dash of silvery white combed back into a low, neat ponytail. Keith wasn’t surprised at his appearance. He always left the house at this time for work. Like always, this meant he was stuck with the cycle to head into the city.

 

“You’ll be alright?” Shiro asked, smoothing over a daring wrinkle on his shoulder. Shiro didn’t take any crap, not even from his clothes.

 

“Yeah, of course.” Keith busied himself rifling through his closet, although he hardly needed time to pick out an outfit. He just wanted to hide his disappointment before his brother saw. Shiro wasn’t aware of it, but Keith frowned upon his night job. By day he worked as a successful businessman; the head of Shirogane Inc., a company that legally sold weapons to licensed shops all around the city and beyond. That wasn’t surprising at all. What turned Keith’s stomach was that, in the nighttime hours, his older brother was using those weapons to supply his mafia, the Shadow Pride.

 

Back when they were still living in the city, Keith once overheard Shiro on the phone with someone, talking about the transfer of weapons from one place to another. At first, Keith assumed it was work related. But then his brother said, “Make sure everyone in that warehouse is dead. We need to show them that there's a new sheriff in town.”

 

Ever since, Keith was dangerously interested in what he meant. Over the years, he learned that Shiro was the leader of the Pride, a mafia who, ironically, kept the peace in the city. Supposedly they regulated other gang crimes and related violence in exchange for no police involvement in their activities. Ten years and there has been no trouble with that deal. Keith had to admit that it was a fool-proof arrangement, but he wasn’t sure if that would last to long. Sooner or later the other gangs in the city would join forces and overthrow Shiro’s mafia, and Keith hoped his brother wouldn’t be caught in the midst it.

 

Shiro’s good arm rose in his periphery, causing Keith to flinch. But his brother only ruffled his hair affectionately, a rare smile on his lips. “I’ll be home tonight, so don’t be too late.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. You know I go to the gym after school.”

 

“What for? Your skinny limbs can’t get any more muscular than they already _aren’t._ ”

 

Keith couldn’t help but laugh, his sullen mood momentarily forgotten. “You make no sense. Get out.” He shoved playfully against his brother’s side, and Shiro cackled with laughter, putting his hands up.

 

Then he quickly sobered and straightened his jacket, but the light in his eyes never faded. “Be safe on the road and at school. Okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Good.” Shiro bumped his shoulder to Keith’s, then walked out of the room. Keith waited until he heard the front door slam shut before he walked toward the bathroom to take care of his business. He ran warm water over his head and raked a hand through his hair, hoping the mop of jet-black would stay up, but it just flopped over his forehead. Sighing, he took a hair tie from the shelves and roped his hair together in a hasty bun low on his head. There.

 

Keith returned to his room and got dressed. He usually kept his color scheme limited to reds and blacks, which was ironic, since one of his favorite colors was blue. That was mostly because of his affinity for the sky. It was boundless, and gazing up at it was one of his favorite pastimes. It helped him think and focus.

 

Buckling his navy denim jeans, he shrugged on his brick red leather jacket and stepped into his black Nike shoes. Keith scooped up his backpack and walked out his room, not looking forward to school at all.

 

_Metropolis High School_

_August 13th, 7:40 a.m._

 

The bell rang as soon as Keith pulled into the parking lot on his motorcycle, a sleek beauty with a ruby red coat and a shiny iridescent finish. The engine, pipes and such were glistening silver and impeccably clean, the way Keith liked it. He admired his bike for a few more seconds, flattening the tangled ropes of black hair from wearing his helmet for too long as he dismounted.

 

Students were walking all around him, casting curious glances towards Keith as they passed him. He did not care. The only thing that mattered was finishing the school day.

 

Keith powered down his cycle and locked the wheels, tightening his bag straps on his back as he walked across the parking lot toward the school entrance. Many kids hardly bothered to move aside when he approached, so he shouldered them aside. Some protested but their complaints were faint on his ears, as he was nearly halfway down the hallway inside. Keith never saw the point in lingering around; they were soon to be reprimanded by school staff, and then they’d miss out on actually learning something. Sometimes other people confused him.

 

He rounded the next corner, coming up to his locker. He quickly unlocked it, setting his helmet inside, and closed it with a loud clang. He pivoted around and headed toward his first period class: European History. From then on, he was running on autopilot.

 

_3:40 p.m._

 

_“Again!” Shiro yelled, rolling his thick shoulders that shone with sweat. He circled Keith like a wolf going in for the kill. Keith’s body ached to rest, to hydrate, but he couldn’t let that happen. Not until he won._

 

_The next time his brother charged him, Keith was ready. As fast as he could blink, Shiro swung his leg straight for his face. Keith threw his arm up to shove his foot away, but as soon as he lifted his arms, Shiro drove his fist for his stomach. Keith quickly stepped back and grabbed hold of his extended arm and twisted it around him in one swift motion, forcing his brother to his knees. Shiro grunted as he resisted, but Keith held him firmly. He was nearly as tall as him now, so Keith jabbed his heel into the back of Shiro’s knees and tightened his grip when he went down. He had the higher ground, and at this position the round went to Keith._

 

_Shiro knew it, relaxing his body. “Good job,” he said when Keith released him. Shiro shook out his prosthetic arm for any kinks or jammed wires, but it appeared to be working fine. Keith craned his neck to loosen the tension in his shoulders, grinning in triumph when he was sure Shiro was okay. After five rounds of close combat training with his brother, he finally scored one._

 

_Keith watched as Shiro reached for his water bottle and take a long swig from it. There was never a time when Keith didn’t feel happy with his brother around. It was during these training sessions, no matter how useless to him they were, that Keith was absolutely assured of Shiro’s safety. Out there, in the metropolis with his gang, there was no telling what trouble he’d get into. At least, at home, Shiro was safe. If only for a little while._

 

_He took his damp hand towel from where it hung over a hook on the basement wall, rubbing the warm sweat from the skin of his neck. Shiro stood straight and walked over to him, nudging his shoulder. “I was right.”_

 

_“About what?”_

 

_“You were able to be patience and not rush into battle. You focused on your goal to win.”_

 

_“And?”_

 

_“Sooo, my mantra fits perfectly. Patience yields focus.”_

 

_Keith rolled his eyes, though not angrily. Shiro only mentioned this about four times each day. Times that with ten years of saying it in every brotherly lecture, Keith was surprised he wasn’t actually brainwashed with the idea. In a way, Shiro had a point. But he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being right._

 

_Keith shrugged and ran a hand through his damp hair. “Yeah, why not. Pass me the water?”_

 

The shrill drone of the bell snapped Keith out of his memory, bringing his attention to the present. He was quicker than the others to pack up and leave, not bothering to take his homework with him this time. He needed to eat before he went for a run in the park, and the stores nearby always flooded with students after school. He had to be quick.

 

People were just starting to come out of their classrooms when Keith pushed through the double doors, helmet already secured on his head. He unlocked the wheels of his cycle and mounted, turning the key to start the engine. Flipping the helmet visor down, Keith kicked up the stand and quickly backed out of the parking lot, hightailing it to the nearest cafe. The ride took no longer than twenty minutes, but that was without traffic. The cafe was relatively empty when he arrived, but soon that would change. Parking his motorcycle outside, Keith went inside and waited on the line. There were about five people before him. It wasn’t much of a wait. So Keith quickly glanced around the cafe, noticing everything and everyone, like his brother taught him. Despite their calm suburban neighborhood, the city was an entirely different story, and a dangerous one. Keith always needed to be on guard.

 

He spotted at least two people who met his gaze too many times. But he didn’t want to think much of it. Soon, it was his turn to the cashier. Keith turned his attention forward and ordered his usual, a chocolate-filled pound cake and a tall cup of black coffee, no sugar and no milk.

 

There was a loud scraping sound; a chair chafing against the tiled floor. Keith looked over, watching as a tall, obscure man pick up his cup and walk out the door. The man looked unassuming, but that was just his outward appearance. The only weird thing about him was the way he flicked up the collar of his jacket, as if that was supposed to make him seem cooler. Keith scoffed. It was 2018; no one wore their collar up anymore, or ever did for that matter.

 

Keith watched him until he left the cafe, and a few seconds after, as he walked across the street and proceeded to pull out his phone.

 

“Sir?”

 

Keith turned around. His cashier was watching him with an expectant look, but her smile was genuinely polite. “I said your total is six-fifty, sir.”

 

“My fault, ma’am,” he said as he searched his pockets for his money. When he came up with his heavy wallet, he pulled out the exact amount she asked for and handed it over. When she took it, his eyes became drawn to the nametag secured on her shirt. It read “Allura.” It was exotic, as was the girl. Keith had never been attracted to women, but he knew when it was appropriate to appreciate someone’s beauty. Allura could have easily been of mixed heritage, with rich dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. Her skin was soft brown, like melted chocolate. Someone that his brother would definitely pursue. Maybe Shiro might want to take a break from his night job to hang out with this alluring Allura. Keith needed to keep that in mind.

 

When she handed him the change, he nodded and tucked it into his wallet. “Thanks Allura.”

 

She looked surprised for a moment. Then amused, as if remembering her name tag just then. She grinned. “You’re welcome. Your order will be brought to you shortly.”

 

Keith nodded, taking his receipt and crossing the floor to the seating area. He took the booth nearest to the door, as he needed a quick exit when he finished, which would be soon. He also needed to keep his bike in clear view, just in case someone tried to snatch it up. The odds of that happening were slim, but Keith always took precaution with his possessions.

 

His coffee and pound cake were brought to him in less than a minute. He thanked the waiter and swiftly began to dig into the cake.

 

Ten minutes later, Keith was at the park, steadily jogging down a circular path around the entire area. It took him at least two hours to complete the trail, and by the time he reached the end, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go home, only to come back again to the gym. He decided to rest a few minutes here before heading over to the Y, giving him an extra hour instead of the two he usually spent working out there.

 

Keith wondered where his obsession with exercising originated. Sometimes he thought it came from Shiro’s persistence in that Keith always stayed in shape and honed his senses should anyone want to harm him and he needed to defend himself. Other times Keith assumed it was his own tendency to push himself to his limits, test his ability to withstand bodily strain. He liked to see how long it took him to wear out, and it was after which he’d treat himself with something to eat. It was a very satisfying feeling.

 

Keith approached an empty bench near the park exit and sat down, letting out a deep exhale. He gazed upward, feeling a sense of peace. The sun was slowly beginning to set, casting the sky in a vibrant orange light. It was a beautiful thing to watch, especially from the elevated vantage point of the bench. But he didn’t want to waste his extra hour, so he reluctant stood and walked out the park, heading to the gym. 


	3. First Contact (Failure)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance prepares for his mission, encounters his target, and fails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to leave at a cliffhanger; i love those. there’s more coming, don’t worry.

_**Rooftop of Aidell’s Pizzeria** _   
_ August 13th, 8:35 p.m. _

  
Extra packs of ammo? Check. .22 Colt revolver with sights and laser attached? Check. Switchblade and poison darts? Double check. His skills? Quadruple check.

Lance was always prepared. There was not one mission during which he didn’t have Plan B, C, or D. There was a way out of everything, and Lance McClain was the man to find it.

Night was strengthening, and the darkening sky slowly offered the cover that Lance needed. Even though he was clothed in black from head to toe, it never hurt to be careful. Especially since there was a streetlight nearby that was soon going to threaten his hiding spot.

His location was conveniently across the street from the parking lot of the gym that Kogane was still in. It wouldn’t be long before he came out to retrieve his motorcycle and head home for the night. Only this time, Keith wouldn’t be going home tonight.

Lance thought back to the spec file on the Korean boy. He didn’t have much of a background, only that he kept his head down in school. He wondered why Keith wasn’t a bully like he suspected he would be, given that he was the younger brother of a killer. That ruthless attitude should have been passed down the genetic line. Nonetheless, Lance could handle a wannabe gangbanger. After all, he wasn’t even part of Takashi’s antics. The information on the sheet proved that.

Movement below caught his attention, invoking the instinctive reaction of aiming the muzzle of his pistol downward and staring down the sights. A dark-clothed figure was ambling slowly across the parking lot, a helmet tucked beneath his arm and something dangling in his right hand. Keys? Definitely. The person was already reaching forward, walking to a cycle parked in the middle of the lot. Lance tightened his hold on the pistol, focusing on the face of the man.

Lance knew it was Keith the moment he had crossed beneath the light of a streetlamp. The soft yellow light illuminated high cheekbones and a sharp jaw, angled dark eyes, full frowning lips and a thick head of raven black hair. Even through the lethal crosshairs of Lance’s pistol, he could tell Keith was very handsome. For the briefest of moments, Lance’s resolve wavered. But he knew he couldn’t mess this up. The job needed to be done.

Keith was mounting his bike. The window of opportunity was closing; it was now or never. Lance squared his shoulders and relaxed his stance, leaning forward. He aligned his sights on Keith’s head, finger hovering over the trigger. Nothing mattered but the target and his reward. He whispered his mantra to himself, a calming sentence before he did the deed.

_“Aim the crosshairs, breathe it you-”_

Lance choked on his words, noticing that Keith was staring in his direction.

Lance saw the moment he realized he was in danger; Keith’s eyes widened and his lips formed a small ‘o.’ The shocked expression before death could never be so beautiful.

The sharpshooter froze, an icy chill overcoming him as his rational mind screamed at him. _Do it now!_

His finger twitched.

_SHOOT HIM._

Keith fumbled with his keys. The sound of his desperation could be heard even from the roof. Lance swallowed. He was losing his chance. He needed to take action.

The rumble of the engine snapped Lance out of his frozen trance. He focused his aim at the very last possible second and yanked on the trigger. Keith’s shoulder jerked where Lance’s bullet struck him, and the Korean boy’s anguished scream echoed in Lance’s ears, and so did his rapid heartbeat.

Lance failed. For the first time in his career, he failed in eliminating his target with one round.

He watched Keith push his helmet on with obvious effort, kicking back the stand and speeding off. Not only is Keith alive, but Lance’s future in the mafia was now at stake. He needed to kill that boy. His life depended on it.

He slowly packed up his things, frantically thinking of ways he could strike Keith down. It took him a while, nearly until he was back at Lotor’s headquarters, but now he had an idea. Not ideal, but it was better than nothing.

It was time to go school supply shopping.


	4. Recovery and Revelation (R&R)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith finds himself in his brother's headquarters, gains insight on his and Shiro's situation, and gets a brand new bodyguard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't know how to end this sorry

**_Downtown, Pride Territory_ **

_August 13th, 8:56 p.m._

 

All Keith felt was the throbbing, searing pain stabbing his left shoulder. It expanded into a blinding pain as Keith drove downtown, seeing nothing but moving shadows and formless flashes of light. He hardly remembered tearing through the darker parts of the city, nor did he recall stumbling through that alley and into his brother’s headquarters.

 

His abrupt arrival caught the attention of some guards standing watch inside the compound, which was an abandoned storage building with hardly any running electricity. The shifting and clicking of their guns sent an involuntary flinch through Keith’s body, and he began to lose his balance. When the guards shone their flashlights on him, he heard their startled whispers.

 

One of them shifted their light sideways, illuminating Keith’s shoulder. He suddenly became all too aware of it, and the entirety of the situation came down on him in a strange way.

 

Keith laughed. It was a soft laugh, cold and lethargic.

 

He knew it. He _knew_ he wouldn’t be safe, despite the self-defense lessons that Shiro gave him. Someone had targeted him because of who he was. That was very, painfully clear.

 

Someone nudged the guy beside him. “Get the Commander.”

 

Suddenly the floor turned to jello, it couldn’t support his weight. Keith collapsed, succumbing to a darkness so comfortable he wasn’t sure he wanted to see the light again.

  


**_Pride Headquarters_ **

_10:49 p.m._

  


“...contact my operative in the police.”

 

The voice was soft and muffled, as if being heard from underwater. Keith struggled to open his eyes, feeling like they were glued together. A dull throb blossomed in his shoulder, reminding him that he was injured. He couldn’t stop the pained groan that escaped him, and he futilely attempted to move away from the pain.

 

A pair of hands gently held his arms down. “Don’t move, Keith.” The voice was familiar, and as Keith slowly came to, light strengthened against his closed lids until it became annoying. Keith blinked away the grogginess and looked around.

 

His brother came into view on his left, hard lines creasing his forehead. He was clearly troubled. “How are you feeling?” Shiro asked, his tone hard and foreboding.

 

“Like a shot person should be. Like shit.” Keith tried to sit up, but Shiro stopped him with a hand to his good shoulder. Keith eased back down on what he realized was an actual bed, plush sheets and everything. What kind of headquarters was this?

 

“Stop moving.” Shiro pulled back Keith’s sleeve, checking his wound. “I don’t want you bleeding out again.”

 

“Again?”

 

“You were hit at a vital angle, and it hit a big artery. You would have died if you got here a little later. Luckily I have a mini hospital here to line you up.” His brother gestured to his right, bringing to Keith’s attention an IV stand connected to his right arm.

 

“Oh. Thank you.”

 

Shiro said nothing and moved away, and that’s when Keith realized he was shaking, and when he knew Shiro was livid.

 

He spun around, fists curled at his sides. “You could have _died,_ Keith! Do you understand that? Why weren’t you more careful?”

 

Keith went silent with shock. Shiro was blaming him? _He_ was the one that got shot, not him. Keith watched his brother as he paced back and forth, flexing his metal prosthetic hand. He was plotting something, but Keith was unsure of what it was. It took Shiro a whole ten minutes to speak, and when he did, his voice lowered a few levels.

 

“Did you see who shot you?”

 

Keith sighed, frustrated. “No. It was too dark to see anything.”

 

“Where were you?”

 

“The gym.”

 

“And where is that?”

 

“It’s between 45th street and 3rd Ave. By a pizza place and Modell’s.”

 

“Aidell’s Pizzeria?”

 

Keith shrugged. “I guess. It’s the only one near the area.”

 

Shiro stopped pacing, eyes going wide. “That area… that’s Cartel territory.”

 

“You are just realizing that?”

 

His brother slanted him a look. “There are more gyms in the city than the one you went to.” He started to pace again, more quickly this time. “I knew I should have stopped you from going there,” he muttered, more to himself than to Keith.

 

“Why?” Keith knew, but he wanted Shiro to confirm his suspicions.

 

“This was a failed attempt of revenge.” Shiro went on as if Keith hadn’t spoken. “The Northside Emperor does not take shit lightly. You act against him and you will pay for it with your life.”

 

“What did you do to him?”

 

Shiro raked his real hand through his hair, clenching it tightly as he responded. “What _haven’t_ I done? I stopped some of his heists, robbed from his outposts, killed his lap dogs and threatened his allies. I am just waiting for Lotor to get back at me. You were supposed to be his way of doing that.”

 

“But whoever Lotor sent didn’t do the job.”

 

“But they _will_ finish it.” Shiro walked over to sit beside Keith, fixating him with an intense stare. “All of Lotor’s assassins live up to their name. He recruits, trains, and sends out the best, and only the best. I have no idea why your would-be killer failed, but that was only their first appearance. They _will_ make a second coming.”

 

“You make them sound like Jesus.”

 

“Keith, _please._ Be serious about this for once.” Shiro put his hands together as if in prayer. “This isn’t a game. This is an act of war.”

 

“It didn’t have to be.”

 

Shiro paused, frowning. “What are you talking about?”

 

“You should have retired! Why didn’t you? You don’t have to keep going!” Keith couldn’t stop the words that spewed from him. It was as if they were just waiting for the right opportunity to be released, and this was it. “You’ve done enough in the black ops. You should just walk away!”

 

“I _can’t!”_ Shiro shot up, his dark eyes flaring. “You don’t think I’ve tried? I _want_ to retire. But I just can’t. I even went to the military to try to reason with them, but they need me here to keep the peace. They are bound by the law and I’m not. That makes me flexible.”

 

Keith started to reply, but Shiro went on. “The only reason why I’m still standing is because they are _still_ protecting me.”

 

“ _Why?”_

 

“This city is one of the most dangerous of all in the country. High numbers of gangs and cartels and everything in between. Violence here casts other cities in its shadow. Police have no power here. But _I_ do.”

 

Keith wanted to keep his mouth shut, not wanting to interrupt his brother for fearing he’d stop talking, but he needed to know more. “So the military is using you to keep one city under control. Fine. What about the others?”

 

“There are other operatives like me. After we’ve completed our service in the forces, they send us out to damned potholes that are cities like this. They can’t exactly wipe every gang in every doomed city in the country.”

 

"What if you decided to drop off the face of the earth and avoid this?" 

 

Shiro paused, his mouth pulling into a thin line. His dark gray eyes deepened. "You really don't want to know."

 

It took Keith a moment to realize that his brother was completely serious. “No, I guess not," he managed after he cleared his throat. Keith sank back into the sheets, sighing deeply. This changed nothing. He was still being targeted, he was still shot and lying in this stolen bed with stolen money. There were times when he wished he was with his mother in the army, but he knew it wouldn’t be any better than where he was now. His best option was to ride out his last year in high school before he moved out on his own.

 

“You need to change your patterns, Keith.” Shiro sat beside him again. “Your assassin is going to find another way to take you down. You have to confuse the enemy long enough for me to find out who it is.”

 

“How are you going to do that?”

 

“I have my methods.”

 

Suddenly Keith didn’t want to know. He was fine in the dark.

 

For now.

 

Shiro got up to leave, walking around the bed to check on the IV. “I’ll be assigning you a bodyguard. And before you tell me that isn’t necessary,” he added with a stern look, “It is _absolutely_ necessary. You need to be watched at all times. I will not risk your safety.”

 

Keith groaned, wanting to hit something. He couldn’t change his brother’s mind, even if he wanted to. “Which one of your people will be my bodyguard?”

 

“Someone I trust with my life. By the way, he isn’t in my gang.”

 

“Who is it?”

 

“You’ll see him on your way out.”

 

Keith’s blood chilled. “Out?”

 

Shiro winced, turning to him with wide eyes, begging him to understand. “I can’t have you stay here. It kills me to make you leave, but I have to protect my compound too. If you’ve been seriously tracked, then I can’t have Lotor’s men finding my place.”

 

That was understandable, but all of this never had to be in the first place. If Shiro cut ties with the military earlier, Keith wouldn’t be sitting here suffering a bullet wound.

 

The strength filling Keith was foreign, like something other than himself was lending him the power to push past the fear he felt creeping up on him. Shiro wanted to split his loyalty between family and strangers? “Fine,” he said aloud curtly. He raised his arm to his mouth, peeling off the tape holding down his IV with his teeth. “I’ll see myself out.”

 

“Keith—”

 

“Don’t.” Keith gritted his teeth against the pain when he pushed himself to a sitting position, then to standing. He fought to keep from swaying before he started to walk. “I see where you stand.”

 

Shiro knew when to stop talking, and this was the right moment. Keith carefully edged past him, curling around his shoulder. He only realized his mistake when he reached the end of the hallway outside, not recognizing anything around him.

 

“Come on, this way,” Shiro said, and even now Keith heard the smile in his voice without looking at him. His brother didn’t say anything until he led him to a cold stairwell. Keith opened the door as Shiro said, “It’s only two flights down. There’s a long wide hallway downstairs, the one you came in through. Adam will meet you there.”

 

“Who’s Adam?”

 

“Your bodyguard.”

  


**_Shirogane-Kogane Household_ **

_11:20 p.m._

  


Turns out his bodyguard was an actual police officer.

 

Adam was tall, at least a few inches above Keith, and a bit on the lean side, but the gun openly sitting in his holster and his hard stare was enough to chill Keith’s bones. His navy blue uniform blended in to the night, but the flashing police lights from the cruiser outlined him in red and blue.

 

The officer dropped Keith off in front of his house. The darkness inside was beginning to look eerie, but Keith wasn’t afraid to step in. But something was bugging him about the officer.

 

“You sure you’ll be alright by yourself?” Adam asked, narrowing his olive green eyes at him. Keith watched the lights dance behind him, casting the front of his body in shadow.

 

Instead of answering his question, Keith fired his own at him. “What strings did Shiro have to pull to get you to do his bidding?”

 

Adam was silent for a few seconds, eyes going wide behind his glasses. But his expression quickly darkened as he stepped closer to Keith. “Takashi didn’t pull any strings. We are on equal ground.”

 

“Even when he is the leader of a gang?”

 

“You of all people should know of his situation. I won’t blame him for it.”

 

Suddenly Keith was feeling really tired, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep.

 

“If you say so,” Keith ceded. “But I’ll be fine. I’m not completely helpless by myself, you know.”

 

Adam nodded curtly and walked back to his cruiser. He opened his door but paused, saying to Keith,  “You need at least a week to recover, and I’ll check in every day to make sure you don’t do anything stupid. Afterward, I will be escorting you to school. No more bike rides alone.”

 

Keith groaned. “Seriously?”

 

“Seriously. Get used to it,” said Adam. He gave a brief smile before climbing behind the wheel and driving off into the night.

 

Keith watched him until the darkness swallowed up the police lights. He wasted no time in getting into the house, locking the door and shutting the windows in the home. He activated the alarm system before gingerly taking a shower. It took all of his focus to not damage the gauze wrapped around his shoulder, and nearly all of his energy to arrange himself into bed afterwards.

 

As he stared up at the dark ceiling, he immersed himself in thought. How would Shiro figure out who shot him? And when he did, what would he do to them?

 

The memory of the incident was all too fresh in his mind, and his body sure didn’t forget it. He winced at a brief sting in his shoulder, gingerly shifting position. He doubted he’d hotheadedly bring himself to school this week, and there was no way he could stay home for that long. But what choice did he have?

 

Keith’s thoughts began to trail toward Adam. There was more to that police officer than what he was letting on. How did he and Shiro meet?

 

What more would Adam be willing to do for him?


End file.
